


Drabbles

by ThePreciousHeart



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Anniversary, Anxiety, Birthday, Comfort, Conversations, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Dancing, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mid-Canon, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Tea, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8173789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePreciousHeart/pseuds/ThePreciousHeart
Summary: Kingsman drabbles/works that are too short to be one-shots. So far all have been posted on Tumblr beforehand, and all are about Merlahad because... well, what else is there to write about?





	1. Glasses

**Author's Note:**

> Hey people! So, if anyone read my notes on "A Risk Worth Taking," I mentioned that I was writing a multi-chapter fic about Harry's backstory. Well, several months later, that fic has been written, and Part One should be optimistically posted in late November or December. (Editing takes time, but pays off.) Just wanted to get that out there for anyone who was interested. In the meantime, have a bunch of fluff!

As soon as they had deposited themselves into their seats, Harry promptly removed his glasses while Merlin began to scan the menu.

“Merlin.” Harry’s voice was gentle, but rousing. “We’re on break. There’s no need to wear your glasses. Kingsman isn’t going to fall to pieces in your absence.”

Merlin glanced up just in time to spy outstretched fingers reaching towards him. Instinctively he backed up against the chair, reaching up in an attempt to block Harry’s hands. “No, Har-”

But it was too late. Deftly Harry plucked the glasses off Merlin’s face, turning the cafe into a blurry series of muted browns, reds, and grays.

“You see.” Harry’s voice was warm now, and Merlin struggled to focus on him, hoping he was looking him in the eye. “Just enjoy the moment, Merlin. It’s not going to last forever.”

Merlin nodded, then waited a few seconds before saying, “Actually I don’t see much of anything right now.”

There was a brief pause as Merlin’s words computed in Harry’s head, and then Harry slowly slid the glasses back over to Merlin. “…Sorry about that.”

“Have you _no_ sense of personal space?” Merlin grumbled as he took the glasses. He put them back on, bringing Harry’s amused and radiant smile into crystalline detail.

“Now and again,” Harry said. “I just find it difficult to keep my hands off _you_.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, but he smiled.

 


	2. Something For the Weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two agents get sidetracked at a mission briefing. Merlin has an endless reserve of patience, but Harry is fed up with all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written solely to feature my beautiful trash OC, Agent Bors, who I first wrote about in "Paper Faces on Parade." He's a philanderer with a destructive weakness for women, and I love him (and hate him) to bits. Agent Kay is "by-the-book." Erec is more levelheaded but very much of an enabler for Bors.
> 
> Title comes from "Something For the Weekend" by The Divine Comedy, because "the woodshed incident" is TOTALLY a thing I imagine happening to Bors.

  “All right.” Merlin surveyed the trio of Kingsman agents who had just been sent to him for details on their most recent assignment. “As Arthur explained to you earlier, there are three tasks that must be accomplished during this mission, one for each of you. Those tasks would be retrieving the information we need, standing guard, and distracting the hostess. I’ll let you divide the tasks amongst yourselves, and then we can get to business.”

      “I’ll retrieve the information,” Galahad spoke up before anyone else could. Though that was undoubtedly the most important task, neither of the other agents tried to bargain with him for it, likely because they understood that Galahad’s prowess in the field greatly rivaled theirs.

      “I shall distract the hostess,” Bors said primly, a wickedly smug gleam in his eye. “I believe I’m suited for-“

      “No, no, no,” Kay interrupted, sounding rather cross and more than a bit fed up. “I’d best handle that one. No offense, Bors, but we don’t need a repeat of what happened last week.”

      “Excuse me?” Bors exclaimed, and Merlin suppressed a sigh. _Here we go._

      “I handled myself perfectly well last week. That woman leaping on me was none of your concern.”

      “You nearly had to be dragged off of her,” Kay countered testily. “I’m sorry, but for such a highly-praised agent you seem remarkably eager to take the obvious bait. At least when it’s pretty and blonde.”

      “Not _every_ time,” Bors bit back.

      “Really?” Kay laughed. “We _all_ remember the woodshed incident.”

       “She was a damsel in distress!” Bors protested. “What’s a knight to do? I was just trying to help her out.”

        “You were _just trying_ to get up her skirt, Bors,” Kay said, gritting his teeth.

      “That wasn’t even the first time you were tied up by a woman,” Galahad broke in, with a voice that sounded controlled, but also held a note of _can we PLEASE get on with it._

Bors’ smug gleam spilled across his face. “And it won’t be the last!”

       Galahad promptly eyed Merlin. His mouth didn’t move, but Merlin could clearly read the _help me_ in his eyes. He hid his amused smirk with his clipboard.

      “Gentlemen, if you would please stop fussing. Now, do you want me to divide the tasks for you, or can we all get along like rational adults?”

       The expression in Galahad’s eyes quickly transitioned to _thank you._

Later, after work, Galahad was able to verbally voice his complaints. “Of course I immensely appreciate their help, but- only in small doses. I don’t enjoy having to be the mediator when we’re working together. I can’t fathom why Arthur always pairs them up when all they do is bicker all the time.”

      “When they’re not bickering, they tend to get the job done,” Merlin reminded him. “And remember, Harry, it could have been a lot worse. You could have had Bors and _Erec_ together.”

        Galahad’s eyes hit the ceiling as he contemplated the prospect. “God save me from the both of them.”

       “I don’t think _He’d_ be able to do that,” Merlin muttered.

       “Very well then. Merlin save me?”

      Smiling a bit, Merlin reached across the space in the shuttle to take Galahad’s hand. “Don’t I always?”

 


	3. Shall We Dance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy needs to learn to dance for a mission. Harry and Merlin decide to show him how it's done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when you have to learn a medley from The King & I for a concert, it turns into Kingsman & I. Hence the title. 
> 
> Song used: "Stormy Weather" by Etta James, from that dancing scene in A Single Man.
> 
> Headcanon: Harry loves jazz music and all its variations.

Eggsy had been excited for his first seduction mission, until he learned that there was more to it than “infiltrate, get some action, snoop around, leave.”

      “If you’re going to properly sneak into this party and escape without being detected,” Merlin said, “you’re going to have to learn to dance.” He led Eggsy into one of the larger rooms at Kingsman HQ and went to plug in a set of speakers, while Eggsy hung back and scowled slightly.

      “I _do_ know how to dance,” he protested.

      Busy with the speakers, Merlin didn’t look back to respond. “Yes, but I wouldn’t call ‘gyrating and shaking your arse’ _dancing_. And neither would the target. This is a formal affair.”

      Eggsy let out a sigh of suffering. “Come _on,_ Merlin.”

“Sorry, Eggsy,” a new voice spoke up from the doorway. Both Eggsy and Merlin turned to see Harry enter the room. “I’m afraid Merlin’s stuck too far in the 80’s to appreciate your dancing talent. The 1880’s, anyway.”

      Merlin rolled his eyes and turned back to the speaker set-up. “ _Anyway,_ the point is that you’ve got to learn to dance formally, and _someone_ has got to teach you how. That person would be me. We usually give any recruits who aren’t familiar with ballroom dancing a crash course over the span of several weeks, but seeing as your mission is coming up next week, there’s no time for anything but the basics. Now-“ From within the pocket of his jacket, Merlin produced an iPod, which he promptly hooked up to the speakers. “All you have to do is follow my lead.”

       They tried a few steps together, Merlin moving easily and Eggsy mirroring him while Harry watched from the sidelines. However, Eggsy quickly abandoned the project in frustration.

      “It’s not the same without a partner,” he said. “Just doesn’t work right.”

      Smoothly Merlin flowed over to the speakers and hit the iPod’s Pause button. “Is Roxy in?”

      “No,” Eggsy huffed. “She’s out on a mission today.”

      “I’m surprised you had to ask,” Harry commented lightly to Merlin. “It’s time you brushed up on those organizational skills.”

      “And I won’t say a _word_ about yours,” Merlin said dryly. “Eggsy, if you feel comfortable dancing with me I’d be happy to-“

      “Excuse me?” Harry said, walking towards Merlin with eyebrows raised. “I know we favor the hands-on approach at Kingsman, but you seem to be forgetting a partner for _yourself.”_

Merlin nonchalantly met Harry’s eyes. “And who might that be?”

      In answer, Harry sidled up to Merlin and placed one hand on his shoulder. “Let Eggsy watch _us._ You want him to learn from the best after all.”

      Merlin said nothing, but even Eggsy noticed the upward tug of his lips into a very small smile. He went to the iPod to select a song, but Harry shook his head. “Why don’t we use mine?”

      Merlin stepped back to let Harry hook up his smartphone and scroll through music selections. Soon enough the sweet sound of strings swelled across the room, and Eggsy grinned.

      _Don’t know why_

_There’s no sun up in the sky_

_Stormy weather…_

“All right, the slow dance,” Merlin said, not missing a beat. Harry turned and positioned himself right in front of Merlin. They gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment before clasping hands and raising them. Harry placed his other hand very deliberately on Merlin’s waist, and Merlin in turn rested his hand on Harry’s upper arm.

      “Placement of the hands is important when dancing with a partner,” Merlin said as they began to slowly sway together. “You want to ensure their comfort as well as your own. If you’re dancing with a woman, you’ll be expected to lead. Lay your right hand on her waist, like Harry has with mine. Be confident in your movements.”

      They moved together in silence for a few seconds, and Eggsy watched happily. The thought crept into his mind that maybe he should subtly film this with his glasses, but he told the thought to get lost. This was a moment too good to be cheapened by instant replay.

      “Slow dancing is one of the simplest forms of dancing,” Merlin murmured to Eggsy, but his gaze was focused elsewhere. “You only need to move back and forth to the beat of the music. At a party, it’s not uncommon to chat while dancing, and in fact would be encouraged on a mission. Helps build a rapport between you and the target.”

     “However,” Harry spoke up, even quieter than Merlin, so that Eggsy wasn’t even sure he was being spoken to, “silence can also be golden.” He broke into a warm smile, his liquid brown eyes staring right into Merlin’s, and Merlin seemed to come to life under his gaze. Ever so slowly, they bridged the small distance between them, their foreheads briefly touching before Merlin rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder. They danced with a comforting familiarity, moving perfectly in sync as if they had been dancing together for years.

      Which, as far as Eggsy knew, they had.

      Merlin gave no more pointers until Etta James had drawled her last notes, after which Harry immediately pulled away from Merlin and rushed to his smartphone to prevent it from playing the next song. Looking slightly dazed, Merlin turned back to face Eggsy, only to find him grinning like a maniac.

       “You two are brilliant,” he said in teasing admiration. “Why don’t you just assign Harry to the mission? He’s a _natural.”_

“Never again,” Merlin and Harry chorused together, and shared a knowing glance.

      “Besides,” Harry went on, scrolling through his music, “we haven’t even touched on swing dancing yet.”

      “They haven’t hired a  _swing_ ba-“ Merlin started to say, but all of a sudden an infectious drumbeat was pounding from the speakers, and Eggsy sat back to enjoy the show.


	4. Birthdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry attempts to find out Merlin's birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A post-script to "Boundaries."

       “Move over,” Merlin muttered, his request nearly lost in the yawn that followed it.

       “Can’t,” Harry responded. “I’m too stuffed. You’ll have to roll me off you.” But despite his words, he managed to raise his head from Merlin’s shoulder and unsling his arm from around Merlin’s waist. Slowly he sat up against the edge of the couch, running his fingers through his hair and gazing into the soft flicker of the TV lights.

      “That’s your own fault,” Merlin said matter-of-factly. “You shouldn’t have eaten so much cake.”

      “And _you_ shouldn’t have brought so much cake over in the first place if you didn’t want me to eat it,” Harry ribbed. He turned so that Merlin could see the teasing grin on his face. “But I can’t thank you enough for it.”

       “There _is_ such a thing as saving it for later,” Merlin said without looking at Harry. His glasses reflected the TV’s onscreen action.

        “I may have heard of the concept,” Harry said lightly. “But I prefer a method known as ‘indulging yourself.’ Especially since it’s _my_ birthday.”

       Merlin sighed, finally looking over at Harry. “At least you let me help you finish it off.”

       “Of course.” Harry smiled. “I couldn’t let you not taste your own work.” Warmly he reached out and clasped Merlin’s hand in his. “Ian, this has been an amazing birthday, and I’m so happy I got to share it with you. I’ll have to return the favor when it’s your turn.”

      It wasn’t until after they had shared a kiss that Merlin pointed out, “Do you even know when my birthday is?”

      Harry let go of Merlin’s hand. “Actually I was hoping you would tell me.”

      Instead of opening up immediately like Harry expected him to, Merlin seemed to pause and consider the prospect before saying, “I generally don’t share that kind of information.”

      Harry raised his eyebrows. “That’s a bit unfair, seeing as you have access to all kinds of information about _me._ How do you expect me to celebrate if I don’t know the date?”

      “That’s exactly it, the celebration,” Merlin explained dryly. “If word gets out to the rest of Kingsman, you can be damn sure that they’ll throw me a _surprise party,_ and I would very much _not_ like to be the center of attention.”

      _What, don’t you trust me?,_ Harry wanted to joke, but he decided it was best not to say a word. Whatever Merlin’s reasons were, Harry respected his preference to keep his birthdate a secret. It was the least he could do after the respect and consideration that Merlin had already demonstrated towards Harry that night.

      Though that wasn’t to say he couldn’t ask for a compromise.

      “Will you at least tell me the month?” Harry asked, turning the full force of his charm onto Merlin. “I promise I won’t breathe a word to anyone.”

      Under the power of Harry’s eyes, Merlin relented. “October. Now are you satisfied?”

      _“Very_ satisfied,” Harry said, leaning in for another kiss. Soon all thoughts of birthdays were forgotten- by Merlin, anyway. As Merlin went obliviously home that night, Harry ruminated on the month of October, and smiled to himself.

*

      Several months later, Merlin was interrupted in his office by the entrance of a certain knight-errant. He spun his chair around to come face to face with Harry, beaming and carrying a brown paper grocery bag.

      “Good morning, Galahad,” Merlin greeted him, a slight note of wariness already creeping into his voice. He wasted no time in asking, “What’ve you got there?”

       Rather than respond right away, Harry came forward to set the grocery bag on Merlin’s desk. With a flourish, he reached in and drew out a covered dish. “For you, Merlin.”

      Even more warily, Merlin lifted the lid. What he found beneath it made his heart skip a beat. On the dish sat a tempting German chocolate cake, complete with candles.

       “Happy birthday,” Harry announced triumphantly, while Merlin’s head whirled.

      “Galahad… Today’s not my birthday.”

      “Then that leaves thirty more days that this cake could potentially be relevant,” Harry said smoothly. “Which, consequently, means thirty more days for you to appreciate my baking talents. I stayed up late last night working on this.”

        Merlin couldn’t help but feel flattered that Harry had remembered, even though he’d gotten the date completely wrong. He scraped off part of the coconut icing and tasted it, his heart singing as he realized it was up to his standards.

       “I must admit that I’m impressed.” Merlin glanced up to meet Harry’s loving eyes. “But what if I finish it before my birthday?”

       “Then I suppose I’ll have to bring you another,” Harry said. “I was thinking of trying red velvet next time. I know chocolate is your favorite, but it’s time for me to take some risks.”

      At that, Merlin laughed, surprising even himself.

      “In that case, take all the risks you want. My birthday’s not for another thirty days. Looking forward to all that cake coming my way.”

      That remark effectively put a stop to Harry’s baking ambitions for the rest of the month. Therefore, it was a surprise for Merlin to arrive at his workstation on October 31st, only to find a package postmarked from America- or more specifically, New York, where Harry was currently undercover. Opening the package revealed a large rectangular cake decorated with the tackiest orange-and-black icing that Merlin had ever seen. A black cat, a jack o’lantern, and a witch greeted him, while over their heads proclaimed a message in cursive: HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Just one look at it brought the taste of plastic and food dye to Merlin’s mouth.

      There was a sticky note attached to the cake’s package, and Merlin read every word with a fond smile.

        _Happy birthday, Merlin. I hope you’ll enjoy this monstrosity. It’s not exactly homemade German chocolate cake, but it’s the best I could find on a short notice. Be ready to celebrate when I get back. XO Galahad._

“ _Very_ funny,” Merlin muttered to himself as he went to go fetch a knife and fork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never seen a cake like that before, but if it exists, America is definitely the country in which to get it.


	5. Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's late for an important date. But he has a good reason this time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw a prompt post: "Expect me to be a little late, I have a situation on my hands." So, guess where my mind went.
> 
> Also, that last line implies that this doesn't take place in my regular continuity, making it an odd one out.

“Habitual lateness” was just one of the many traits that Harry Hart carried over into every aspect of his life. In their ten-year relationship, Merlin had long since come to terms with it. Harry’s strengths greatly outweighed his faults, and if Merlin couldn’t overlook them, the relationship wouldn’t have lasted as long as it had.

However, when it came to matters of the heart, Merlin did expect Harry to be more punctual. And it certainly wasn’t proper for him to keep Merlin waiting alone at a restaurant for nearly thirty minutes.

After two refills of water and three instances of brushing off the waitress, who kept coming around with an increasingly concerned expression on her face, Merlin had had enough. He discreetly slipped out of the restaurant- luckily, he’d chosen a booth in the very back, where he was less likely to be observed- and reached into his pocket for his phone. Using his glasses was a much more efficient way to contact Harry, but here in public, appearing to talk to himself would surely win him more stares than he was comfortable with.

The moment Harry picked up, Merlin didn’t wait a second before speaking. “Harry. What’s taking you so long?”

When Harry replied, he sounded more flustered than Merlin was used to hearing. “Terribly sorry, love. Expect me to be a little late, I’ve got a situation on my hands.”

 _A situation?_ Merlin swallowed and stared up at the sky overhead, trying to collect himself. Knowing Harry, “a situation” could mean anything from “I went shopping and lost track of time” to “I’ve been kidnapped by terrorists.” It was only to be hoped that Harry had managed to avoid the second option, this time.

“What sort of situation?” Merlin asked, and Harry sighed. He sounded out of breath. It was then that Merlin noticed the ambient noise on the other end, the sound of footsteps against pavement. Was Harry being _chased?_

“I can’t exactly tell you right this moment,” Harry said. “But I swear I’ll-”

“Harry,” Merlin cut in, exasperation slicing the air like a knife. “Who did you manage to piss off this time?”

A pause, and then Harry’s defiant response blazed over the line- “They pissed _me_ off first.”

 _“Harry.”_ There were several things Merlin could have chosen to say, but since most of them were the beginnings of a lecture he opted for something more succinct. “Why didn’t you-” He quickly glanced both ways around the sidewalk to make sure no one was listening before lowering his voice to a whisper. “Why didn’t you just _take them out?_ ”

“Because I didn’t want to be _late!_ ” Harry insisted. Merlin sighed heavily, reaching up to rub his temples. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re _already-_ ”

“I didn’t want to be _too_ late,” Harry amended his statement. Merlin thought the footsteps on pavement sounded quieter now, but it was hard to tell. He fought the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that such a move was wasted when Harry wasn’t there to see it. “So you’re bringing your pursuers to our _anniversary_ dinner. Lovely.”

“Merlin, I’m so sorry, I’ve got to hang-”

“Do you need any help?”

_“Yes.”_

Merlin sighed again. “Okay. Give me your coordinates and I’ll be on my way, Gala- Harry.” Some habits were hard to slip out of.

*

“Happy anniversary, love,” Harry said at last when the dust had settled. He brandished the bouquet of pink and white roses that he had been carrying, though it had been upset during the scuffle. A few petals lay crushed in the alley, but Merlin didn’t mind. He took the bouquet with a small smile and breathed in the fresh scent.

“Happy anniversary, dear heart.” Merlin handed over a wrapped gift and then, after furtively checking his surroundings, dared to give Harry a kiss on the cheek.

“I hope you aren’t troubled by the mess,” Harry said, gazing around at the several unconscious, incapacitated figures lying strewn in the alley. “I tried my best to shake them, but they were _very_ determined.”

“Not troubled at all,” Merlin said. He slung an arm around Harry’s shoulder and led him towards the sidewalk. “I’d phone an ambulance, but we’d best not miss our dinner reservation. If they haven’t given up the table by now.”

Harry snorted in an ungentlemanly manner. “Don’t worry about those nasty jerks. They got all that they deserved.” He hesitated for a moment, then said coyly, “It’s been a while since I saw you move like that.”

This time Merlin did roll his eyes, right in full view of Harry. “Maybe if you’re feeling lucky, you’ll get to see it again later.”


	6. Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last, Harry and Merlin get married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. But don't let that put you off!
> 
> Reading "Your Last Mission," a fic I've posted on Fanfiction.net, would help make sense of this.
> 
> Songs used: "Fields of Gold" by Sting (performed by Dallas String Quartet) and "Once I Loved" by Antonio Carlos Jobim (performed by Frank Sinatra).

The actual ceremony went off without any fanfare whatsoever. No flowery language, no lining up and presenting of guests- just a few simple exchanges. Both men had written their own vows- “Harry, do you take me,” “Ian, do you take _me_ -“ followed by an exchange of the rings that they had gotten made. That was exactly the way Merlin had wanted it, and Harry had no choice but to concede to _that_ wish. Sure, all the while they were watched by three pairs of eyes, but the ceremony required witnesses. And it wasn’t as if Merlin could simply tell their guests not to come. Eggsy would have been sorely disappointed, claiming that he was being left out, and Roxy was just as morbidly curious, though she denied her interest when asked. As for Percival, Merlin supposed he had earned the right to attend after all the work he had put in rebuilding Kingsman. That, and all the years he had spent teasing Merlin about his relationship.

      After signing their names in the register, Harry leaned in and gave Merlin a peck on the cheek. There had been no command to “kiss the groom,” but Merlin was so flattered that he didn’t mind the public display of affection. Easing closer to Harry, he leaned over and returned the kiss, this time on the lips. His hand brushed gently against Harry’s cheek. Harry smiled when Merlin pulled back, and Merlin decided that perhaps he didn’t mind the attention. Not even when Eggsy whistled at them.

      The reception was another affair altogether. Merlin had been the first to pose the question- what was the point of getting married if there were no celebrations afterward? The modest group of five headed back to Kingsman HQ, the interiors of which had already been decorated. As Merlin and Harry stepped through the front entrance, several refreshment tables and a live band greeted them. Not to mention the six remaining agents and their plus-ones, mingling about with drinks in hand.

      Just this once, Kingsman’s eyes didn’t need to be focused outward. The world would do just fine on its own for one evening.

      All of the agents congratulated the newlyweds, but while Merlin accepted their words along with a glass of champagne, he noticed that Harry kept eyeing the stage. When Bors and his wife had finished enthusing on how Merlin and Harry had finally joined the prestigious ranks of “married couples within the organization,” Harry leaned over and murmured in Merlin’s ear.

       “Shall we dance, love?”

      “Why do you think I hired them?” Merlin responded, gesturing to the musicians at the end of the room. They were poised to play and likely trying to figure out how all these people knew each other. Merlin walked over to them and spoke to the conductor, then turned back to Harry with open arms. As soon as the strings sounded, an unlikely grin burst over his face.

       Harry’s reaction to the music wasn’t immediate. He took Merlin into his arms and placed one hand on his waist, the other wrapping around Merlin’s neck. As they began to sway, though, Harry’s brow creased thoughtfully- followed by the widening of his eyes as realization hit.

      _“Ian!”_ He wrenched himself away from Merlin’s arms, though he still clung to his hands, and stared both incredulously and wondrously at his new husband. “This isn’t- our _first_ dance…”

      Instead of answering, Merlin only smiled. He began to softly sing the words, making sure not to voice them too loudly for fear of disrupting the live band. _“You remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley…”_

Harry blinked heavily, and Merlin was positive he saw tears in his eyes. “I… don’t know what to say. How- how did you-?”

      “Shh.” Merlin gently pulled Harry back into him. “Let’s dance first and ask questions later.”

      They spun around on the floor while the guests watched rapturously, and both of them savored every moment.

      When “Fields of Gold” ended, Merlin saw another musician rise from the sidelines. He approached a microphone centered before the band, and for a second trepidation rose in Merlin.

      “Harry, I swear if you played a joke on me and chose some godawful pop song, I’ll-“

      Harry struck him with a withering, pitying look. “You know me too well for that, Ian.”

     They began a simple step when the song started, moving in sync. It was only when the vocalist began to sing that Merlin recognized the tune.

        _“Once I loved… and I gave so much love to this love that it was the world to me. Once I cried, at the thought I was foolish and proud and let you say goodbye.”_

       The song’s lyrics sobered Merlin. His mind began to pass through all sorts of memories, from the first time he had seen Harry out on the lawn choosing his dog, to their first major mission together where he had shown Harry who was boss, to the endless lunches and dinners they had taken together and the few times they had worked together in the field. He recalled their brief separation and joyous reunion, which was again repeated just last year. Most of all, he recalled the words that Harry had inscribed on his ring- _Save the world._

Inside Merlin’s ring was the response. _Come to me._

Through the years, agents had joined and been replaced, Kingsman had undergone a change of hands, and the world had suffered some serious losses- but Harry Hart, and his love for Merlin, had always remained.

      _“I will hold you close, make you stay… because love is the saddest thing when it goes away.”_

      In Harry’s arms, Merlin surrendered himself, closing his eyes. Love, and Harry Hart, were both here to stay.


	7. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Harry have two conversations, one regarding how much Valentine knows, and one regarding the results of the final test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first and so far only mid-canon piece.
> 
> This was borne from me trying to rationalize the fact that Valentine dropped the mother of all warning signs on Harry when he asked "Do you like spy movies?," and followed that up their next meeting with "My people will be getting in touch with your people very shortly," and yet Harry attempted to complete his assignment without taking any precaution. The second half is me trying not to think about how the last image Eggsy has of Harry is of his anger and disappointment.

After twenty-four hours of free time, Harry and Eggsy returned to Kingsman HQ. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin watched them disappear down the corridor to the barracks, before idly turning back to his computer and resuming his observation of Valentine.

      Presently Harry returned on his own. With his eyes still focused on the computer screen, Merlin drew breath and lowered the volume on the feed. “Galahad?

     “Yes?” Harry halted at Merlin’s side, though he wasn’t standing close enough to touch him. Merlin swiveled his chair to face Harry, folding his hands in his lap.

      “A word, if you please.”

      “Certainly,” Harry said, a touch of warm amusement in his voice. Merlin squeezed his hands together, trying to broach the subject as gently as possible.

      “Do you suspect that Valentine is onto you?” Sometimes it was safer to ask Harry rather than voice his own opinion, especially if his was a negative one.

      Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Why should he be? I haven’t given him any reason to suspect me as anything more than a wealthy philanthropist. I daresay my cover is airtight.”

      “Don’t you find it at all odd that he showed up at the shop at the exact time you were there?” Merlin persisted. He hadn’t been able to help himself from listening to the conversation, which had turned out to be both a blessing and a curse. In cases like these, it was hard to say whether he preferred informed speculation, or blissful ignorance.

       Harry shook his head. “If he suspected me, he wouldn’t have taken my advice on the hatter’s.”

      Merlin shrugged, choosing not to comment on Richmond Valentine’s perceived intelligence, or lack thereof. That would be straying from the point.

      “What about his parting words?” He smoothly mimicked Valentine’s voice. “’My people will be getting in touch with your people very shortly.’”

      “Oh, we were only making conversation,” Harry said, brushing aside Merlin’s concern. But Merlin had heard too much from Valentine to let himself believe that. He shook his head.

      “What about your dinner conversation? He asked if you liked spy movies, for goodness sakes. Honestly, Galahad, I’ve never heard something more incriminating.”

      Harry stiffened. An average agent wouldn’t have been able to detect it, but Merlin knew Harry inside and out. He caught the near-imperceptible flash of light in Harry’s eyes, before he smothered it.

      “After thirty-four years of service I’ve learned not to ignore coincidences,” Harry said lightly. “But I can’t think of any more that can be done. We’ve got a bug on Valentine. If he knows more than he’s letting on, he can’t dig any deeper before we’re onto him.”

      Merlin glanced back at the computer screen, not entirely reassured. Something still wasn’t adding up, and after thirty-two years of service, Merlin had learned to trust his gut instinct.

       Harry was gazing at him, his eyes soft. “Have you any suggestions for our next move?”

       Taking a deep breath, Merlin rose from his seat. He tried his best to find the words that would harm Harry the least, but at last could only manage a straightforward response.

       “I think you should sit this mission out,” he said. “Or at the very least, keep your head down.”

      Instantly Harry’s eyes hardened. “That’s not a valid option, Merlin. When have I ever failed to complete an assignment? Sending in another agent would only overcomplicate matters.” A smirk appeared on his lips, though his eyes were devoid of humor. “Besides, I can’t have him taking all the credit.”

      “Are you aware of how risky it is to pursue Valentine alone?” Merlin argued, dropping all pretense. So what if his true concerns were made obvious- Harry should already know how he felt.

      “He’s close to discovering what you are, Galahad. You can’t deny it. Whatever plans he’s making, I can guarantee you that there’s no role for you to play in them.”

      “I’m well aware,” Harry said quietly, looking away from Merlin. “But, as I’ve told you before, we’ve played with greater odds against us. I can hardly ignore my duty. I agreed to take on this mission, and I’m determined to see it through to the end.”

      He looked back at Merlin with an expression close to defiance, but Merlin could read beyond the careless veneer. Harry was troubled, acknowledging the danger, but at the same time strongly compelled to finish his assignment. As if it was no longer a matter of choice, but necessity.

      If Merlin could have his way, he would have taken Harry off the assignment and chained him to his side until this Valentine business was over. But he’d grown accustomed to not getting his way. The least he could do was monitor Harry through his video link, never letting him out of his sight.

       “To whom do you owe the completion of your mission?” Merlin murmured. “Arthur? Lancelot? Yourself?”

      “Perhaps all three,” Harry muttered. Slowly he reached out, taking Merlin’s hand in his. “But that’s enough discussion. You’ve got more important things to worry about.” He glanced at the monitor. “Such as the final test.”

      Merlin was about to insist that nothing could be more important than Harry’s welfare, but he heard the shuttle rattle into place behind him. Harry stepped back, severing contact with Merlin, as the shuttle door opened to reveal Percival and Roxy, back from their outing.

*

      By the time Harry was on the plane to Kentucky, there was no point in asking if he was sure about his actions. He’d made his conviction very clear the moment he boarded the plane. But his solemn silence implied that more potent emotions were brewing beneath his skin.

      Merlin knew he shouldn’t pry, especially in a professional setting, but as the silence crept on he couldn’t help remarking, “You’re awfully quiet, Galahad.”

      Harry didn’t answer for a few seconds, but then he said, “Merlin, did you by any chance listen to my conversation with Eggsy?”

      Merlin shook his head automatically, forgetting that Harry couldn’t see him. After discovering that Eggsy had refused a proper dismissal and made off with a Kingsman cab, Harry had immediately gone in search of him. But Merlin had had his hands and ears busy with Valentine at the time, and didn’t know how the impending conversation had panned out.

      “What happened?” he asked.

      Harry sighed, and Merlin pictured him closing his eyes, sinking back into the smooth leather seat. “Some harsh words were said, from both parties. I told him to stay put at my place until I get back, but I doubt he’ll listen.”

      He fell silent, but Merlin could feel the weight of the air pressing him down, even as the space between him and Harry grew greater and greater. He pushed his glasses up on his nose, not sure what to say. Harry had banked all his hopes on Eggsy, seeing in him a chance to make up for his failures seventeen years prior. Having Eggsy deny the life he’d been offered must prove crushing. But Merlin had come to know Eggsy well during training, and he wasn’t surprised at the results of the final test. He felt he should apologize to Harry, but knew in his heart that such a notion was ridiculous. Fair was fair. Eggsy had made his choice, and while it didn’t benefit Kingsman, Merlin couldn’t fault him for following his heart.

       “I should have known that he’d fail the test,” Harry spoke up, sounding pensive. “It wasn’t in his nature, but I had hoped…”

      “You feel he would have made a more suitable recruit?” Merlin guessed.

      “I don’t mean to slag off Roxy in any way,” Harry backtracked. “Percival did a fine job on her. Talk about a slap in the face of old traditions. I just thought that Eggsy…”

      He trailed off, and Merlin wondered if Harry realized how selfish he was beginning to sound. Not as a sore loser, but as a man whose quest for atonement was so strong that he failed to recognize that Eggsy and Lee Unwin were two entirely different people.

       “You have a right to be disappointed,” Merlin said. “But are you disappointed for the right reasons?”

      Silence. Then- “Shit.”

      “What is it?”

      “He told me he was sorry before I left,” Harry sighed. “Let’s hope this mission wraps up quickly. I think we both have some apologies to make.”

       Merlin gave a curt nod, not caring if Harry could see it this time. _Good._ He stared into the monitor, tracking the plane on its flight.

      “Let’s concentrate on saving the world first, okay?”

      “Of course,” Harry agreed. “Save the world first. Then to you, Merlin.”

     “Then to me,” Merlin echoed. He clenched his hands together. _Then to me. Come back to me. Come back…_

But for the first time, Harry disobeyed his orders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~spoilers~
> 
> Don't worry, Harry DOES come back.
> 
> I guess that's hardly a spoiler at all seeing as practically everyone headcanons it.


	8. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin doesn't lose control often, but sometimes, after certain high-risk situations, it's inevitable. Fortunately Harry won't let Merlin suffer alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this when I was majorly stressed/anxious, to take out my feelings on a character I love. As ya do. I know Merlin is a strong, stoic character, but I like imagining him as being prone to stress because it helps me when I feel that way, and because honestly, with a job like his, I can't see how he would avoid it.

       Merlin isn’t in the habit of losing control. His job won’t permit him to be. The closest he ever gets to breaking is on the occasional field mission, having to fight enemies face to face. Every carefully laid scheme in his head flies out the window under the stress of motion and action. But behind the great, stabilizing comfort of the screens, Merlin calls the shots without fear. He directs agents on their merry way, overriding their hasty decisions with a voice of reason, and never flinches from the violence onscreen. As a requirement, any Kingsman employee must have nerves of steel, and when he’s handling missions rather than partaking, Merlin is no exception.

       However, sometimes missions go awry. Sometimes plans don’t work out, or deviate from what’s expected. On such an occasion, Merlin’s tense on the edge of his seat, unable to drag his eyes away from the screen no matter how badly he wants to.

      All he can see is Percival’s palm, bloodstained from clutching at the place where a bullet ripped through his suit, and the guards at the end of the hall that are about to converge on him. With his other hand, Percival is trying to squeeze the trigger of his pistol, but his aim is off and with every shot, he lets out a groan of pain. The sound cuts through Merlin like the knives Percival favors.

        _A design flaw, easily fixed,_ his mind tells him, but _my fault_ drowns out the thought _._ His breath rasps in his raw throat, sore from shouting directions to the agents that they can hear over the ambush.

       Thankfully, Bedivere is able to make it back to Percival’s side and cover him. But as they proceed, achingly slowly, to the exit, they find their way is blocked. It’s up to Merlin to improvise. Usually he’s flawless at this, but he can hardly think over the sound of his pounding heart. So much has gone wrong… This has definitely turned out to be a Murphy’s Law mission.

       “I’m sure you’re familiar with Murphy’s Law,” Merlin’s uncle had told him once, back before Merlin had taken over his position. “’Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.’ That’s a title we reserve only for the worst of the worst. A mission that gives neither the agent nor the handler any trouble at all is a milk run. The ideal mission is somewhere right in the middle- just enough action to keep it interesting, but not so much that anyone actually risks their life.” He’d grinned. “It’s fun for the whole family.”

        Merlin tries to call on the past for help, reaching back into his memories of his uncle’s calm strength. But the nightmare before his eyes won’t go away. By some miracle, he manages to guide Percival and Bedivere to safety, but Percival’s distress haunts him every step of the way.

       _My fault. My fault. My fault…_

Waiting for the agents to arrive after a hard mission is always excruciating, but this time Merlin finds it particularly unbearable. Each second seems to drag like the hour hand on a clock. His hand squeezes against the computer mouse, and then into itself, his nails digging into his palm. Pinpricks of pain bite into him as he forms a fist, but it’s not sufficient distraction. His shoulders are too tense and his jaw is clenched too tightly, but he can’t manage to relax them no matter how loudly his brain is screaming at him to calm down.

        _I wasn’t- you weren’t even in the field. Why are you panicking?_

A sound causes him to snap his head to the right. False alarm- no one’s arriving on the shuttle, but _God, if they see me like this…_ Merlin tries to stand, but the most he can do is push his chair away from his desk. An overwhelming, all-too-familiar tightness fills his chest, coming close to suffocating him. It’s all he can feel, all he can concentrate on, even though he knows there’s work to be done. _What are you still DOING here, get UP, GET UP-_

He can’t focus. His mind is running a mile a minute, impersonally informing him of everything he needs to do next, and with each item on the list more weight is added to his chest. It should be so _easy,_ if he could just get himself to stand up and take care of his business, but he’s filled with the overwhelming desire to just _stay put,_ sit here where it’s safe and just ignore every obligation, even though the responsibility is gnawing away at him…

       The door to Merlin’s left opens, and he jerks his head to see who it is. He’s aware that the movement is far too mechanical, but once he realizes who’s arrived, all his concerns of keeping up appearances melt away. Harry’s here- the only agent Merlin could ever let see him in this state. He zeroes in on the item in Harry’s hands- a steaming mug, which he sets down on the desk.

       “Merlin,” Harry murmurs. “Stand up.”

       As if Harry’s spoken magic words, Merlin finds that his legs work again. Once he’s on his feet, he notices tremors running through his skin, and longs to lock his arms around himself. But instead he moves forward, craving touch, wanting- no, _needing_ Harry in his arms. Fortunately, Harry appears to need it too. He steps forward, sliding his arms around Merlin’s chest, gently rubbing circles into his back.

       “Breathe,” he whispers in Merlin’s ear, and Merlin does, concentrating his hardest on controlling his heartbeat. It takes him longer than usual to calm down- a fact that he wishes he wasn’t aware of- but Harry’s presence alleviates much of the tension. His body still isn’t entirely relaxed, but soon the tremors stop, and he begins to breathe more slowly. Merlin closes his eyes, letting Harry soothe him.

       “I heard what happened from Arthur.” Harry’s voice is hushed as he leans forward, resting his forehead against Merlin’s. His lips skim Merlin’s face, kissing his closed eyelids. “Percival will be all right. There’s nothing you could have done to prevent it. An oversight of the tailor’s, not yours.” He kisses Merlin’s cheek and slowly pulls away, taking Merlin’s hand and reaching for the mug with the other. Merlin accepts the mug, lifting it to his nose and breathing deeply. The scent brings a ghostly flood of herbal flavors to his mouth.

       Merlin lets go of Harry and grasps the mug with both hands, letting it warm his cold fingertips before taking a sip. At last he opens his eyes, to find Harry standing in front of him, his brown eyes like melted chocolate. It’s a sight that Merlin wishes he could drown in.

       “Thank you,” he says quietly, and Harry sighs. Merlin wonders if he knows the source of Merlin’s recent anxiety. If Harry took a guess, Merlin is sure he wouldn’t be far off the mark. It hasn’t been this bad in years, but losing a candidate during the training process is enough to rattle anybody. In all his time with Kingsman, nothing of the sort has ever happened before. Merlin isn’t sure if the hint of pain in Harry’s eyes means that he’s thinking of Lee, or if he’s merely upset to see Merlin this way.

       _Whatever the matter, he hides it remarkably well…_

“Anytime,” Harry murmurs, stepping away from Merlin. He’s played what little part he can today, and while Merlin selfishly wishes for more, he’s aware that Harry too has duties to attend. Merlin only hopes Harry knows the depth of his gratitude.

        “Don’t ever think that you have to suffer alone,” Harry says, a touch of fierceness in his voice. “Is that understood?”

       Merlin sighs and takes another sip of tea. Words are tumbling through his brain, all that he longs to say to Harry, every emotion that’s dying to be verbally conveyed. But this isn’t the time or place for spilling his heart out. Merlin has regained control, and he needs to hold onto it until his work is done.

       “Perfectly well,” Merlin says. “Now get out of here, Galahad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to note that I took the phrase "milk run" from Catch-22, where it was used to describe bombardier missions in WWII that were considered safe and easy. Not sure if the terminology should be used here, but I thought it fit well.


	9. Optimistic Pleasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Harry ride on the London Eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from "Come On! Feel the Illinoise!" by Sufjan Stevens.
> 
> This was inspired by very recent personal events, although I was not in London, and I was with a family member.
> 
> Also, I've started using Merlin's canon name, "Hamish," as opposed to "Ian" as I previously used. Hope that doesn't cause any confusion.

       “I’d forgotten how truly spectacular the view is from up here,” Harry exclaimed. Raising his voice, he directed his words to Merlin. “Look, Hamish. The entire city’s laid out for us.”

       Merlin cracked open an unwilling, yet obedient eye. What he saw between the bodies angled against the windows did not give him a thrill, but rather served as an uncomfortable reminder that he was in a small glass capsule with several strangers, swinging precariously over the Thames. And for some reason he’d paid for the experience.

       “It’s wonderful,” he said faintly. “When do we get off?”

       Instead of turning that into the lowbrow joke of which Merlin knew he was capable, Harry simply raised his eyebrows a fraction. He returned to Merlin’s side, and Merlin tried to ignore the slight swaying motion of the floor beneath him.

        “You’re not fond of Ferris wheels?”

       “Not exactly,” Merlin replied. He focused his gaze on Harry as a pleasant distraction from his surroundings. “The height is not what I’d call comforting.”

       A touch of amusement peppered Harry’s voice. “How in the world did you manage to get your pilot’s license, then?”

       “It’s not heights in _general,”_ Merlin insisted, suddenly eager to defend himself. He couldn’t have Harry thinking he was afraid of _everything._ “It’s just the motion I don’t like. And the scenery. I doubt you’d find a glass airplane to be a picnic yourself.”

       “I suppose not.” Harry seated himself beside Merlin. “Thankfully, wicked minds like yours haven’t invented them yet.” He peered curiously at Merlin as if a thought had just struck him. “If you don’t like it, why did you insist we get on this contraption?”

       “As long as we were spending our holiday in the area…” Merlin shrugged, trailing off. Naturally there was no shortage of things to do in London, but working for an organization like Kingsman left both Harry and Merlin with a shortage of holidays, which meant they rarely had time to partake in the joys the city had to offer. Not to mention Merlin had never been on the London Eye before- although he didn’t want to tell Harry that.

       “Besides,” he added gruffly, “I saw the look in your eye when you caught sight of it. You think I’d let us pass up the opportunity?”

       Harry chuckled. “You daft man. You’d likely jump off a bridge if I expressed interest in doing so.”

       “At least _I_ don’t rely on overused clichés,” Merlin teased.

       He had to admit, with Harry sitting beside him, his irrational fear of the capsule in which he was held breaking off and crashing to the ground below was subsiding. He was even able to laugh at the mental image. _This machine’s been running for years. You’re safe and sound._

“Did you know,” Harry spoke up suddenly, “that I’ve always dreamed of being kissed on a Ferris wheel?”

       “Oh, _now_ your plan comes to light.”

       Harry nudged Merlin. “Hush. I wasn’t planning on anything.”

       “That’s a disappointment,” Merlin said. “Because I can arrange that if you want.” He leaned closer to Harry just as Harry turned his head, a pleasantly surprised smile playing against his lips.

       “Just what are you talking about?”

       In response, Merlin gave Harry a quick kiss on the cheek. Being surrounded by passengers left him reluctant to go further, but Harry seemed delighted nevertheless.

       “We’re approaching the ground now,” he commented, searching for Merlin’s hand and threading his fingers through Merlin’s. “Your half-hour of dread is almost over.”

        Merlin only smiled. Maybe Harry’s romanticism was catching, or maybe he’d grown used to the capsule’s motion, but something about the ride seemed much less dreadful now.


End file.
